


Communication Failure (The Duty of Candor Remix)

by troisroyaumes



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troisroyaumes/pseuds/troisroyaumes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima becomes Himuro's doctor and also his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication Failure (The Duty of Candor Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qem/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Failure to Communicate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/979968) by [Qem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qem/pseuds/Qem). 



The pain began on a Saturday morning, as Himuro was picking up basketballs left littered around on the blacktop. Every so often, he'd shoot them with one hand into the wheeled cart waiting in the corner. A group of young boys, who were still lingering in the park after practice had ended, applauded as every ball landed with perfect precision.

"Not bad, Coach!"

Himuro just smiled at them and waved them off. "Get going, you rascals, and rest up for our game against the Ogres next week!"

"We gonna cream them!" they shouted back and whooped as they picked up their bags and left the park.

Himuro shook his head, as he tossed the last basketball into the cart. He paused and looked around the court, checking for any forgotten belongings--

That was when the pain struck. He doubled over, clutching at his abdomen, and tried not to vomit, as a wave of nausea rolled through him. He braced himself on the cart and gritted his teeth.

Something was very wrong.

***

Midorima stalked through the corridor, flipping through the chart that the nurse had handed him, and tried to compose himself. He had only arrived a few weeks ago to begin his fellowship, and already he was starting to doubt whether moving to Los Angeles for this position had been the best decision. But Oha Asa had advised him to take more risks to advance his career, and he had consulted a few more horoscopes to be sure that the positions of Jupiter and Saturn had been sufficiently auspicious.

He sighed and forced himself to focus on deciphering the handwritten notes on the chart. He was so busy trying to make out whether the scrawl indicated "inflammation" or "indigestion" that he didn't note the patient's name, typed in clear, large letters on the tab.

Thus, he was surprised when he opened the door and met a familiar face. It had been years since high school, but somehow, he had no trouble instantly recognizing the flawless profile turning to meet him, the symmetry of features broken only by the mole at the corner of the right eye. Even the hair style remained unchanged, the long locks of hair being brushed behind a ear, as the man widened his eyes in surprise.

Without thinking, he blurted out in Japanese, "It's been a long time, Himuro-san."

***

Himuro winced as Midorima pressed deft fingers around his lower abdomen. "Yes, that hurts. Very much."

"I see," Midorima said and scribbled something on his clipboard. "And here?" He pressed down in another area.

Himuro just nodded, his teeth clenched.

"And your GP mentions symptoms of fever, nausea, body aches, dizzyness...any weight loss?" Midorima's voice sounded very clipped and remote, sounding out the English syllables with caution. He motioned for Himuro to sit up.

"Not much, just five or six pounds." More scribbling.

"But no indigestion? No diarrhea or constipation?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"I see. Well, your blood test results show some symptoms of anemia, but no signs of infection. I will prescribe you a stronger analgesic and some iron pills, but we will need to run a few more tests to know the cause. In the meantime, you may continue to take Tylenol when the fever exceeds 100° F." Midorima paused, then switched back into Japanese. "It is very good to see you again, Himuro-san, although I wish it were under better circumstances."

"I had no idea you were in America, Midorima," he said, then corrected himself. "I mean, Sensei. Since you're a doctor now."

"Just Midorima is fine. I've only been here about a month." Midorima handed him the prescriptions and added, in English, "I will recommend an ultrasound exam to see if we can diagnose the problem. The front desk can schedule you an appointment with the lab, and I will follow up with you in two weeks to discuss the results.."

"Thank you." Himuro got up from the chair and straightened his clothes. He held out his hand, and after a pause, Midorima shook it.

Himuro didn't let go though. He leaned in and said, with a small twist to his mouth, "By the way, Midorima. Don't forget you owe me a rematch."

Midorima blinked. "What?"

"Eight years since Shuutoku knocked Yousen out of the Winter Cup tournament. Don't think I haven't forgotten. It was my third year and my last chance at making the finals."

It was the only official match that they had played against each other, pitting three-pointer against three-pointer. In the end, Midorima's team had won with a buzzer beater.

"You must give me the chance to have my revenge," Himuro said, his voice playful but his eyes serious. 

***

Midorima checked the address on his phone and peered out at the number on the two-story house. He seemed to be at the right place. He cautiously parked next to the curb and got out, holding a potted plant in one hand and a gym bag in the other. He walked up the driveway and paused before the door, a slight frown on his face.

But before he could move, the door opened, and Himuro was there, grinning, a track jacket on top of a T-shirt and shorts, basketball already under one arm. "Saw you coming up from the window. Glad you could make it, Midorima."

Midorima held out the potted plant. "I couldn't think of what else to bring," he muttered. "Thank you for inviting me to your home."

"Well, I insisted, didn't I?" Himuro replied, taking the plant. "These are daffodils, right? Thanks, it will really brighten up the house."

Midorima toed off his shoes and followed Himuro into the foyer, through the kitchen and out into the backyard, which was paved with concrete and had basketball hoops set up at either end.

"Not big enough to be a full court, but it's enough for a casual one-on-one."

"I take it that you still play regularly then," Midorima said as they settled down to lace up their basketball shoes.

"A bit. I coach a team of middle school students on Saturdays. Sometimes, I go to the park for a pick-up game." He smiled a bit ruefully. "Mostly just trying to stay in shape for when Taiga visits."

Midorima nodded and pulled out the roll of tape from his bag. It took him a moment to remember the proper sequence in which to wrap it around his fingers. 

"I haven't played in years," he admitted, as he wound the tape around the tip of his left thumb. "I was on the team in university but then once I began training, I didn't have the time. It's been a while."

They finished warming up in silence. Himuro took off his jacket and dribbled the ball to the center. "Don't think I'll go easy on you because you're out of shape, Midorima." 

Midorima snorted. "Bring it on."

***

Echogenic masses. Benign lipoma. Inflammatory mesenteric pseudotumor. Himuro tried to make sense of the polysyllabic words.

"I would like to run a CT scan to be absolutely certain before committing to a laparotomy, but it seems to be the most probable diagnosis, given your bloodwork and your ultrasound results," Midorima said, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

"Tumor...that means cancer, right?" Himuro felt dizzy at the thought. One could die from cancer.

Midorima steadied him by the elbow. "No, Himuro-san," he said gently. "There's no indication that the tumor is cancerous at the moment. However, it is exerting pressure on your intestines, which is causing the abdominal pain, and it may grow malignant in the future if we don't remove it soon."

"And that means…surgery." Himuro sat down in the chair and clenched his fists, as another spike of pain pierced his stomach.

"Yes. The procedure is quite safe and straightforward, but it is highly invasive, and you will need some time to recover." 

Himuro remained silent for a long moment, fingering the ring on the chain around his throat. Midorima watched him, his face grave but somehow also kind. The years had softened the sternness of his features.

"How soon can I have the surgery?" 

"The waiting list is very long, I'm afraid. I'll try to do all I can to accelerate your case, but realistically, we are looking at mid-April...late March at the earliest."

"April. That's when the BJ-league finals are taking place. I promised Taiga I'd go to watch him play." 

"I'm sorry, Himuro-san," Midorima said quietly. "I'm sure Kagami will understand."

"Yes. He always does. But I'll still be breaking a promise." Himuro let his hand fall from the ring.

***

By the end of March, Himuro had lost so much weight that Midorima had recommended him for hospitalization and secured a slot for surgery in mid-April. He made sure to give all his patients equal time during his rounds, but between shifts, he would drop by Himuro's room. He was not skilled at making conversation, but Himuro clearly needed the distraction. He would either be on his laptop, streaming Kagami's BJ-league games or poking irritably at the IV needle in his arm while pacing restlessly by the bed.

Midorima never knew what to say, so he spoke stiffly about the news, about his hospital shifts, sometimes even repeating the latest gossip about their former high school teammates and rivals, usually courtesy of Takao, who seemed to keep in touch with everyone. It seemed to distract Himuro for a while, though he never quite ceased the restless way in which he would fiddle with his phone or clutch his ring.

Finally, Midorima asked, "Have you told him yet, Himuro-san?"

Himuro glanced at him, startled, then looked away, his face flushed. "I haven't even explained that I've canceled my flight. I don't know what to say to him."

"Kagami would probably want to know--"

"Yes, I know. I should tell him." Himuro sighed. "I'm being foolish."

"You are," Midorima said, without thinking.

Himuro raised his eyebrows.

"But," Midorima added, "I understand. I've been...similarly foolish at times, as well. It's difficult to admit weakness, of any sort, in front of those you consider important."

"Gracious of you to say so, Midorima," Himuro said wryly. He held up his phone again, tapped at a few buttons with his thumbs. "I'll tell him I'm not going to be there. But I don't want him to know the real reason until after the surgery is over. No need to make him worry and upset his game before the finals."

"Hmm," was all Midorima could say in response.

***

>   
> **From:** 緑間 真太郎 Midorima Shintarou  
>  **To:** 火神 大我 Kagami Taiga  
>  **Date:** Monday, April 13, at 9:00 PM  
>  **Subject:** After your game
> 
> As it is only an hour to game time, I expect you shall not read this email until after the game is over. Whatever the result, I've taken the liberty of booking you a flight from Narita to LAX for the next day. Himuro-san may not admit it, but your presence by his side will be helpful. The surgery for his condition is not particularly risky but it is a long procedure, and he will take a few months to fully recover.
> 
> I hope to see you soon.
> 
> And...good luck.
> 
> Midorima


End file.
